Chekov's Phaser
by teegar
Summary: Ensign Chekov and Lt. Sulu discuss an upcoming mission during target practice in this very short story.


Chekov's Phaser

_"If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don't put it there." From Gurlyand's __Reminiscences of A. P. Chekhov__, in __Teatr i iskusstvo__ 1904, No. 28, 11 July, p. 521_

"Red," Chekov announced tapping a control with his left foot.

Sulu crouched into a ready position and began to scan the upper four corners of the target range expectantly. The computer tended to choose high ejection points for the red disks… but not always… There was the quiet tell-tale hiss of a slot in the wall opening behind him to the left. He whirled in time to spot the lighted cylinder hurtling towards him and fired.

"Hwhant!" the computer buzzed to register the impact as the disk dropped to the deck.

"Good shot," the Russian congratulated him as they switched positions.

"You're still ahead, though," Sulu said, squinting up at the scoreboard high on the wall.

"Slightly," the ensign conceded, readying his weapon. "Twenty-three to nineteen."

"Slightly?" Sulu made a face. "You're killing me today."

The Russian grinned. "I know."

Sulu gave a mock-vindictive growl as he tapped the floor controls with his boot. "Green!"

One thing that made Pavel Chekov a far superior choice as friend when compared to Kevin Riley in Sulu's opinion was whereas he could talk for hours to Riley about his various hobbies, he could rarely get Kevin to actually try anything that he liked. Chekov, on the other hand, had a very competitive nature. The Russian hated to be caught out not knowing or having never experienced something at which the helmsman seemed to be an expert.

Trying to start a conversation with Riley about his newest passion would invariably lead to a dramatic sigh and a loud announcement of "All right, folks. Here we go again!" In contrast, the same conversation with Chekov would typically lead to the ensign going very silent then turning up the next day with dark circles under his eyes and an entire computer bank's worth of knowledge on Sulu's subject of choice at his command.

Sometimes the Russian's competitive streak would result in what seemed to be the circumstance in the new target practice game they were currently playing – after having been introduced to the sport, the ensign would devote every off-duty hour to obsessive practice.

Sulu tilted his head and frowned as the navigator easily tagged a low-flying green disk as it came skittling towards him. Of course, the helmsman reasoned, there was an alternate explanation. "Been spending a lot of time down here recently, haven't you?"

"Yes," the ensign admitted as they switched places. "It does not hurt to be prepared."

Sulu nodded, now knowing that the navigator had two goals in mind - one long-term, one short. Chekov was assigned to be part of a landing party from the _Enterprise_ who would in a few short days be aiding security forces on the isolated Bergeron IV mining colony in providing support for trade negotiations that had erupted into violence. The long-term goal that the navigator had his eye on was that he saw this assignment as potentially being an audition for a Tactical Officer posting for which he had reason to believe he was under consideration. The posting would represent a significant promotion now and had the potential to become an important bridge position if the ship re-designs they'd heard hints of came about as rumored.

"So you're worried there will be a fire-fight on Bergeron IV?" Sulu asked, taking a ready position.

"It is a possibility," the ensign granted parsimoniously, tapping a control with his toe. "Gold."

This time the disk obligingly came out of the wall almost directly opposite Sulu before heading straight for the lieutenant and allowing him to drop it easily. "Let's hope there's not."

"Of course," the ensign agreed readily as they switched positions.

"Captain Kirk knows you're a good shot. He sees you shoot all the time."

"He sees me operate the ship's phasers," the Russian said, making a clear distinction.

Sulu shrugged. "Surely that qualifies."

The ensign frowned and shook his head as he brought his phaser up to the ready position. "He may simply see that as part of my skill set as a navigator, not as a potential Tactical Officer. It is rumored he's leaning more towards someone with more background in Security for the post."

He didn't say Ensign Garrovick. He didn't have to.

The ship's grapevine did currently have the two ensigns running neck-and-neck for the post. However there was also a certain amount of personal animosity between the two young men. Nothing terribly serious…. Just a general clash of personalities… And there had been that yeoman they had both dated… and it had been terribly irresponsible of her to have not broken up with one before she started seeing the other…

"Well, you've been on plenty of landing parties with the captain," Sulu encouraged his friend. He's had ample opportunity to see you fire a phaser."

The navigator turned to the helmsman, letting his weapon drop from the ready positon. "Has he?"

"Sure he has." The lieutenant snapped his fingers as he tried to recall a specific incident. "Right after you were assigned to the bridge we ran into that character who thought he was a Greek god..."

"Apollo," the Russian supplied unsmilingly.

"Yeah. You went to the planet with the captain that time, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And there was phaser fire," the helmsman recalled.

The ensign shook his head. "The only time I had a good shot at him, he deactivated my phaser."

"Oh, okay." Sulu chewed his lower lip as he searched his memory. "Well, how about on the planet with the snake-god?"

"Vaal?"

"Yeah."

"Power dampening device." The Russian crossed his arms. "Our phasers were virtually useless."

"Oh." The lieutenant mentally flipped to the next unpromising item on the list. "And Triskellion…?"

"Deactivated immediately."

"The Melkotian's planet?"

"Turned into primitive lead-projectile firing devices…"

Sulu was silent for a moment until a final adventure occurred to him. "What about Sigma Draconis – The people who stole Spock's brain?"

"Oh, yes." The ensign nodded. "There was a brief skirmish. No order was given to fire, though. The captain himself stunned a primitive before they all ran away."

The lieutenant sighed. "Oh."

"I am a not certain he would have been terribly impressed with my marksmanship if I had fired instead," the Russian pointed out. "After all, the natives were seven feet tall and running towards us armed only with stone clubs. They were not what you would call difficult targets."

Sulu nodded. "Well, it's unlikely that the Bergerian terrorists will have either supernatural powers or an unforeseen technological advantage that will enable them to short circuit our phaser technology."

"True."

"It will be a very dangerous situation," the lieutenant said soberly. "I hope it doesn't result in a fire-fight, but if it does, the captain will get to see your fine marksmanship on display."

"Yes." The Russian grinned as he raised his phaser back into the ready position with a wide flourish of his arm. "I do not miss."

Five days later Sulu was surprised to see his friend exiting the transporter room behind a group of mostly red shirts with slumped shoulders. "Hey, how'd it go?"

"The mission was a success," Chekov announced glumly. "Despite some … difficulties a peace treaty was negotiated between the conflicting groups that I believe will resolve the primary areas of disagreement."

"Oh, good." Sulu frowned at his friend's dispirited posture. "Are you okay?"

The Russian took in a deep breath and straightened his tunic. "Of course."

The lieutenant tilted his head suspiciously. "You look a little shaken up."

"The negotiations were interrupted –as we feared they might be – by an attack from a renegade group," the ensign admitted.

"But you were able to handle it?" Sulu concluded from the nonchalant pace of the other landing party members heading off down the corridor.

"Yes."

"But there was a fire fight?"

"A brief one."

"That you participated in?"

"Yes."

"And your weapon wasn't mysteriously deactivated or anything?"

"No."

"And you got a chance to fire?"

"I did," the ensign confirmed, not looking particularly happy about that fact.

"And Captain Kirk saw you?"

"Oh, he was aware of what I did." The Russian seemed even less pleased about this.

Sulu crossed his arms. "You didn't miss, did you?"

Chekov shook his head ruefully. "Not precisely..."

On cue, a brace of medics exited the transporter room bearing a stretcher with an unconscious patient who looked to be still under the effects of a heavy stun.

"There was a great deal of confusion," the ensign explained miserably as Kirk was ushered to the turbo lift. "And the captain stepped into my line of fire… and…"

"And you don't miss." Sulu winced in sympathy for his friend. "Maybe you should consider updating that policy."

"Yes," Chekov said, hanging his head wretchedly and looking like he'd wished he'd never heard the word "phaser" let alone ever taken his out of its holster this morning.

"Well, buddy, look at it this way," Sulu said, draping an encouraging arm around his friend, "at the very least, you've made a lasting impression. Garrovick is _never_ going to top this."

** The End **


End file.
